


Reasons to Stay Alive

by WholockHobbit88



Series: Little Sherlock and John [15]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Aftermath of a Case, Case solving, Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, First Time, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Romantic John, Valentine's Day, Virgin Sherlock, mentions of established age play relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 20:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6922048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WholockHobbit88/pseuds/WholockHobbit88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For John and Sherlock's first Valentine's Day as a romantic couple John has plenty of fluffy plans in mind. When Sherlock comes home gleeful of the prospect of catching a criminal that has long alluded him, John accepts this night will be like any other. When Sherlock and John get into a life or death situation on the case they realize how much they mean to each other and they want to be together in every way that they can be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! For those of you that have long followed this series I will say this one is an important one for John and Sherlock. They are finally going to do the deed! Yippee, right? :) This one wont have too much age play but I promise that the next one will. If you dont like reading smut, I'll let you know it's only going to be in the second chapter and the rest can be read at the normal T rating. Thanks for reading! :)

The wind whipped at John's face, stinging it and making it burn; every snowflake that fell like a bite to the skin but he was oblivious to it all. Despite the fact that it was one of the coldest winters in recent history and John still had several blocks to walk until he got to 221B mattered little to him. His clothes were wet and cold from the snow but even that didn't matter to him. John was in an uncharacteristic state of giddiness…and all because it was Valentine's Day.

Normally John didn't get so bothered by its being Valentine's Day. Normally, it was an annoyance that he had to put up with, really. He'd celebrated it with countless girlfriends who always had huge expectations that John sought to fulfil. Women put a lot of stock in Valentine's Day and it was up to John to meet those expectations. Often, of course, he did not; he'd fail in some way or another and the day would be a letdown for his current partner. But this…..this was his year for a good Valentine's Day.

Maybe he should have been more worried that he wasn't trying to please a woman but his genius boyfriend but he wasn't. He was finally beyond the point of doubts about his relationship with Sherlock; he'd finally accepted it fully. John and Sherlock had shared many Valentine's Day's together, several in their roles as Daddy and Baby, but this was different. This was the first time they were celebrating Valentine's Day as a romantic couple. John knew that Sherlock wasn't one to get caught up in romance and traditional details but that didn't stop him from having a nice night planned. He was toting shopping bags down the sidewalk for that very reason, full of ingredients to make a full scale feast and a generous quantity of the finest wine. He was planning on making Sherlock sit back and relax while he cooked, share a nice meal together by the fireplace, a little wine, maybe more than a little wine…..and who knew what might happen then?

Sherlock wasn't an easy man to love but John did love him, despite what anyone else said. Nothing about their relationship was, or ever had been, conventional. The first time they'd ever met, Sherlock had basically insisted that John be his flat mate and John hadn't put up any fight; they'd spent that night running through London in chase of a killer. Sherlock had transformed his life in more ways that he could understand at the time; John could see it all now though. Sherlock had given him meaning; he'd becoming his family. They were friends long before they would call each other that and the dangerous nature of their job meant they were closer to each other than most people. They logged extensive hours working together in addition to being flat mates. John would have done anything for Sherlock and he had done more for him than any other person in his life. John believed, as clique as it sounded, that they were true soulmates. Sherlock would probably laugh at him relentlessly if he heard him refer to them that way but that's what they were; despite their differences and all the odds against them, they were two unique souls that fit together and didn't work well without each other.

When John had found out about Sherlock's little side, their relationship had transcended friendship. It was only then that they were able to finally able to accept and express their love for each other. John hadn't known anything about age play before they had started and he was sure that he would not have tried such a relationship with anyone but Sherlock. But he had tried it for the simple reason that it was Sherlock that wanted it. Now he was nothing but thankful he had; it had shown him a different side of affection and closeness that he had never known before with another person. Without it, John was not sure he and Sherlock would have ever acknowledged their love for each other.

John was relieved when opened the door to 221B and slipped out of the cold and into the warm, welcoming air. As John passed Mrs. Hudson's flat he could hear her bright laughter, mixed with the sound of a man's voice behind the door and he smiled; at least someone was having a nice evening. Passing Mrs. Hudson's flat, John made his way up to his own, glad to see that Sherlock wasn't home yet. Smiling to himself, he took the dinner ingredients out and began to cook.

Despite the heightened sense of excitement, John could feel his stomach beginning to twist in knots. He was nervous, actually nervous in way that he hadn't felt in a long time. John thought that tonight might finally be the night that he and Sherlock slept together.

It had been a long time since John had felt nervous about anything sexual. Normally, he was eager, sometimes even to a fault. He hadn't always been successful where woman were concerned, especially since he'd been with Sherlock, but he'd always been eager. With Sherlock, though, he was nervous and hesitant. Part of it was Sherlock; Sherlock was a virgin and nervous about it himself. John hadn't wanted to push Sherlock and he'd never made him feel like he had to do anything. Another obvious part of hesitancy for John was the fact that Sherlock was a man. He wasn't sure what to expect and though they had done enough already to firmly dispute John's heterosexual status, sleeping with Sherlock seemed to cement something. John wanted to do it, of course, but he was not normally so out of his element and it made him apprehensive.

But the biggest reason for John hesitancy was the fact that John genuinely loved Sherlock. John had thought that he had been in love before but his relationship with Sherlock showed him what real love was. It wasn't just about physical attraction or a feeling; love meant caring for someone on several different levels even through their faults. Sherlock and John had been through so much together and they cared so deeply for each other. John knew it was foolish to think that brining sex into their relationship would rattle their whole foundation but that didn't stop him from being more than a little self-conscious.

John had set the table in the sitting room, put a fire in the fireplace and was nearly done with dinner when Sherlock finally burst into the room. Snow clung to his coat and his midnight curls but he didn't make any move to remove his clothes.

"Sherlock, you're just in time" John said brightly, taking the food off the stove and trying to not let Sherlock see how nervous he was.

Unfortunately, Sherlock didn't seem to be looking at all. "John, come on! I've been trying to call you for an hour. Lestrade tried to call you too but you didn't answer."

"My phone died; I've got it in the bedroom charging" John said. "What's the rush?"

"He's down at the park. He has another body he thinks resembles the pattern of the Beethoven killer" Sherlock said, his eyes alight with excitement.

"The one that we never caught?" John asked. It was rare for Sherlock to take a loss but even so he occasionally failed. Several months ago there'd been a string of murders, the victim strangled by a piano wire with Beethoven sheet music covering the bodies. There had been so many inconsistencies in the case that Sherlock had never figured out who it was. It had rattled him to his core.

"Yes" Sherlock said, his eyes bright, smiling from ear to ear, "But I'm sure another crime scene will be enough to finally help me get the pieces into place. Come on, what are you waiting for?"

John put a smile on his face and tried not to let the sinking feeling in his stomach show. The last thing, the very last thing he wanted to do on Valentine's Day was chase a murder through the streets of London. But he knew Sherlock well enough to know that nothing, even John, could stop him from trying to catch a criminal that had gone unapprehended. "It has to be right now?" John asked, hesitantly, hopefully despite the fact that he knew the answer.

"Of course it does" Sherlock said with a small laugh that suggested that he doubted John's sanity. "Why wouldn't it?"

Sherlock, for the first time, seemed to notice the unusual state of the flat. His brow furrowed as he took in the candles, wine and dinner. "What's all this for?" he asked with a laugh.

"It's Valentine's Day….you idiot" John added when he realized that Sherlock didn't know, and likely didn't care, that it was Valentine's Day.

Sherlock looked like he wanted to laugh but he managed to hold it back. "You romantic sod" he said with a sly grin before motioning for John to follow him. "You're coming aren't you?"

John felt a sinking in his stomach, of his excitement and nervousness melting away as he realized that the night that he had planned wasn't going to happen. He could have been mad, mad at Sherlock for not seeming to care but he wasn't. He was just disappointed but in the end he always said yes. He always went where Sherlock led.

"Yeah, of course I'm coming"

…

Everything about Sherlock kept John alive. As much as the affection and closeness, the love and the intimacy made Sherlock essential to John, so did the danger and thrill. It was what had saved John in the first place. Returning from Afghanistan, wounded more in spirit than body, Sherlock had taken him and given him exactly what he wanted; adventure. John could exist on a life no less than one fueled by adrenaline and excitement. John and Sherlock had found themselves in the midst of life threatening situations all too often, with one or both of them as the objects of someone's homicidal intentions but that didn't mean that John ever saw it coming. He certainly didn't expect it that Valentine's night, stepping out of their flat into an arctic blizzard. All he was thinking of was how his sappy, romantic Valentine's Day plans were not going to come to be. John was usually infected by the thrill of the chase but somehow it almost didn't seem real that night. It didn't seem real until a man had a gun pressed to Sherlock's head.

John couldn't express his feelings at that moment for anything. His blood boiled, everything went black; he could only say that he lost his mind. Sherlock, HIS Sherlock, his soulmate, his baby to protect, was in mortal danger. In a moment, his life flashed before his mind, empty, hopeless without Sherlock in it. It was a reality that he couldn't accept and wouldn't let happen. He'd dramatically insisted that the murderer take him instead and when he'd seen the look of pure terror in Sherlock's eyes at that, he'd taken John up on it. Sherlock, so unusually shaken, was reduced almost to hysterics. It was the only time that John had ever seen him that way. The man who had eluded the police for so long, who had managed to trick even Sherlock Holmes, was so delighted in watching Sherlock's agony, he spent several minuets taunting Sherlock with all the ways that he could kill John. Though it had caused Sherlock so much pain, John was glad for it; the needless taunting kept the man from putting a bullet in his head long enough for the police to get there.

The rest of the evening was a blur. The anger, the rage, the pure lunacy that he'd been at the thought of losing Sherlock, combined with the adrenaline and terror that his own life might end had put him in a fog. When he finally came to himself he was in a cab with Sherlock. There was none of the excitement or haughtiness that usually dripped from Sherlock when he caught a killer. All he saw in Sherlock's eyes and his stone cold silence was pure anger and rage. Sherlock was not at all happy at what John had done. Was it because he'd been stupid? That he'd taken an unnecessary risk? Become sentimental? Or because he made Sherlock feel sentiment at the worst time? John didn't know but he wasn't about to approach Sherlock until they were at their own flat. John had never seen Sherlock look as angry as he did in that moment and it was all directed at him.

It was very late at night by the time they stepped out of the cab onto the street by 221B and the snow was falling just as heavily. John watched Sherlock step out of the cab before him and hesitantly followed. Sherlock was marching up to the steps with a determined flurry; when he looked back and saw that John wasn't following him but frozen on the sidewalk, letting the snow soak through his shoes and prolonging the inevitable fight, somehow his rage increased. Sherlock rushed back to John, took his hand in his own, and used it to drag John inside. There was nothing careful or kind about the touch; it was hurried and painful. It was much like the grasp John has used on Sherlock when he'd been little and naughty and he had to drag him out of someplace. John was unaccustomed to being in this situation but he allowed it; something about his actions had certainly angered Sherlock. John felt sick to his stomach; how could he tell Sherlock, how could he make him believe that he'd done it simply because he couldn't imagine his life without him?

Sherlock was quiet as he yanked John through the door of their flat but he didn't let go of his hand. The flat was quiet and dim, the fire long put out, smelling of the food that had been cooked but never eaten, left to sit out. Just as John was formulating what to say to Sherlock, Sherlock finally used his grip on John's hand to whip him around.

"What the hell were thinking tonight?" he asked with such a calm, dangerous fury that it scared John.

"Trying to catch a killer, trying to help you, like I always do" John said. It came out sounded jib and careless, like he was trying to make a joke but that was often how his voice sounded when he was nervous as a defense mechanism.

John was surprised when Sherlock pushed him, hard, against the wall, pressing his weight against John. For a moment, John thought that Sherlock was going to hit him. John thought he would almost let him even though John could effectively break every bone in Sherlock's body if he wanted to.

"You were trying to get yourself shot in the bloody head for no good reason!" Sherlock shouted at him, his face red from rage.

Despite the dampness that had sunk into John's clothes from the snow, he felt hot in the glow of Sherlock's anger. "No good reason!" John burst out. "No good reason? I was trying to save your life!"

"I had everything under control" Sherlock insisted, looking furious, "You needn't have done anything!"

"Well ,it didn't seem like you had it under control when that crazed lunatic had a gun pressed to YOUR forehead!" John countered.

"I would have got out of it like I always do!" Sherlock yelled, his face so close to John's that he could feel Sherlock's hot breath on his lips.

"How can you be sure?" John raged back, "You are always risking your life, always playing with death and you think it's always going to be a game. Well, it isn't a game and one of these days you're going to lose. I'm sorry if you're upset I made you lose your cool but-"

John didn't get to finish his sentence. The moment the thought passed from his mind to his lips, Sherlock grabbed him by the shirt collar and slammed him against the wall so that his head cracked hard. Rage and furry and passion, anger and love and need mixed inside John in a way that he had never felt before; as the pain radiated through his skull, John grabbed Sherlock by the neck so hard that he gasped. Whether John did it to show Sherlock who was still in charge or to scare him or to hurt him, even John didn't know in that moment. The harsh action was enough to make Sherlock's anger dissolve. When it did, John was startled to see actual tears in Sherlock's eyes.

"You think I'm upset because you made me look foolish? You think I'm upset because I turned into a blubbering, gasping fool when that maniac pressed the gun to your head?" Sherlock asked, emotion on the edge of his words. "You think I care what I looked like or sounded like!? I don't fucking care!"

It was rare to hear Sherlock curse and even rarer to see him cry when he was big. Whatever anger John had had fizzled out and was replaced by sorrow. Sherlock had his full attention. John thought he might be able to guess what Sherlock wanted to say but he held on with batted breathe for Sherlock to speak it.

"What do you care about?" John whispered, hopeful and anxious.

Sherlock's face crumpled; his eyes closed as he placed his forehead against John's. "If you have to ask me that, then I have failed to make even my most basic intentions and feelings known to you."

Before John could formulate a response to Sherlock's words, he found himself under the most passionate, crushing kiss he'd ever had in his life. Sherlock's hands were on his cheeks, holding him in place, as if he even needed to; John wasn't going anywhere.

Sherlock's lips were cold from the hours spent outside that night but they were a contrast to the burning hot of the tongue that plunged into his mouth. John finally relinquished control on Sherlock's throat, going to his hair instead. The hair that was like silk between his fingers, the hair that he dreamed of touching with a blush long before he would attempt it, the hair that when caressed or pulled in the right way would illicit such a moan from Sherlock that it left itself in John's dreams…John's heart was racing inside his chest, the hormones flooding his blood making him excited so soon off his adrenaline high.

John ached…ached for everything Sherlock was giving him and not giving him. He ached for the way Sherlock, lips consumed him, aching for the feel of his long, skilled fingers against his cheek as much as he suddenly, pressingly needed to feel all of Sherlock's skin against his own, needed to taste it against his lips. He needed to convince himself in every way possible that they were alive and well.

When Sherlock's lips pulled away from his own, now warm and swollen, John felt the loss keenly. "All I was thinking of when that lunatic had that gun on your head was that I was going to lose you and it made me insane" Sherlock whispered. "All I could think about was how devastated I would be if you were dead. All I could think was that I couldn't possibly go on without you. I know that I am not a man of passion, but surely, I have shown you in some ways that I love you, John Watson. I couldn't bear to be without you."

It was possibly the most passionate, transparent thing that John had ever heard from Sherlock. John had long been convinced of Sherlock's love for him but it wasn't something that was often expressed to him audibly. But the fear in Sherlock's voice shook him; he genuinely thought maybe John had not been convinced of his affection.

John fell upon Sherlock's neck, breathing in his scent like it was air he needed. "Of course I know you love me" John whispered, his fingers playing with an errant curl. "Everything you're saying is the exact reason I did what I did. When that man threatened you…..I lost my mind. I couldn't let that happen. Life would not be worth living without you."

When John pulled back away from Sherlock's neck, he could see a small, flattered but hesitant smile on his lips, his wet eyelashes pressed closed. "You flatter me, John. Your adoring devotion of me knows no bounds"

"I'm not flattering you" John said seriously, "I mean it. If I let him kill you, my life was over. If I stepped in my life MIGHT be over. The decision was easy for me."

Sherlock was silent for a long time before he finally spoke. "What did I ever do to deserve you?" he asked, the words echoing off the night silence around them. It was possibly the deepest way Sherlock had ever said he loved John.

"Nothing…..so we are even in that" John said honestly. Sherlock just smiled; rarely silent. John felt his breath catch in his throat as Sherlock's nimble fingers undid the buttons on his shirt, revealing it half way and touching his chest, feeling his heart; maybe he too needed to know John was alive.

"John," Sherlock said his eyes firmly on the hand he had planted on John's chest, not his eyes, "I want to touch you, and I want to feel you…..all of you."

John's eyes opened wide despite the fact that Sherlock's eyes seemed to shyly avoid his. His heart was thumping inside his chest and his blood was already rushing down in excitement. "You mean…" John prompted, sure but still wanting Sherlock to confirm it.

He was not disappointed in Sherlock's reaction. He gave a huff and a characteristic Sherlock eye roll. "Do you want me to be romantic and say I want to make love to you?" he asked. "Do you want me to be vulgar and say I want to fuck you?"

John couldn't help but laugh from nervousness and relief. Getting Sherlock to say fuck twice in one conversation was quite an accomplishment. "No" John said with a smile, feeling warmth spreading throughout his chest. "I just want you. Are you sure you're ready?" John didn't know if it was simply the night, the reckless abandon of it that prompted it but John wanted to make sure Sherlock was ready. If he was, John wouldn't think of denying him.

It was Sherlock's turn to laugh. "If I was not sure I would not say it. I'm not that cruel, John" he said.

For the first since they began speaking, the looked fully into each other's eyes. John felt his heart beating fast, warmth radiating in his body, a flush down to his toes; he felt as much of a nervous virgin as Sherlock was. In some ways he was but in all the ways that mattered they both were.

John held out his hand and Sherlock took it; unlike earlier, their hands entwined were warm and affectionate. Sherlock smiled at him, a nervous flush on his own cheeks. John couldn't help but smile back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned before this chapter is explicit so if smut makes you uncomfortable please skip. If it doesn't please enjoy the sweet, first time smut :)

They were silent as John led the way towards Sherlock's room but John was relived to feel Sherlock's hand as clammy as his in his own. He was uncertain what would happen when they got to Sherlock's room. Sure, they had had plenty of close calls, plenty of times they had almost had sex, but those had been unplanned and full of passion. This was more deliberate and final. John was relieved that Sherlock seemed to know what to do as soon as they stepped into his room.

In a moment they were a mass of hands and lips, touching, kissing, biting….all coherent thought was dashed from John's head. His insecurities and worries were momentarily dashed from his mind as Sherlock's tongue probed his open, as his teeth nipped at his lips. This…..this was familiar. Sherlock's hands came around to his back, pulling John flush against him. John could feel the trembling in Sherlock's fingers as they touched him, betraying his nervousness even as his mouth opened wider, more eagerly, seeking more of John. The moment John felt himself growing in need of air, Sherlock's mouth went to John's neck, pulling and nipping flesh that made John gasp. John gripped Sherlock's shoulders, digging in as hard as he could through the many layers as they fell back on the bed. Sherlock landed on top but, fueled by passion and dissolving nervousness, John gripped Sherlock by the arms and turned him so he was on the bottom; Sherlock seemed only too eager to comply.

In a position of control and flushing need, John's hands gripped Sherlock's hair in deep handholds as he kissed from below the ear, down along his neck.

"John…" Sherlock gasped out his name breathlessly. There was nothing that John had ever heard that could spurn on such pure passion and lust and need as Sherlock's passionate muttering of his name. The great Sherlock Holmes, the brilliant detective, the man who seemed so unaffected by his emotions to the public, going weak and needy for him gave John a burst of confidence that never failed to urge him on.

Taking a burst of power himself, Sherlock gripped John's face and pulled it back to his own, consuming his lips again full of such speed that John found it hard to breathe. Sherlock's hips bucked up towards where John's lap was on his, causing just enough touch that John could feel Sherlock already growing hard. John's hand reached around and gripped Sherlock hard through his trousers until he gasped in frustration, pulling back from John's lips.

A growl, a lusty primal sound, broke from Sherlock beneath John. "God, John….just take off your clothes already!" he said. There was a note of humor under the need and John couldn't help but give a nervous laugh at it.

"Maybe I need you to woo me, Mr. Holmes" John said in a teasing voice though his hand never left Sherlock's crotch. As much as they were fueled by need, they were still them; snarky as ever toward each other.

"I can feel you against my leg so don't pretend you're not in need" Sherlock said, still gasping, his hair a delicious mess on the pillow.

Sherlock grabbed John the same way that John held him and John couldn't help the gasp that came from him. He was suddenly in no position to want to play around; shirts, jacket, trousers, pants all came off in record speed. John could get his clothes off very quickly when he wanted to but even this was quick for him. He slid off Sherlock just long enough for Sherlock to repeat the hasty removal of clothes. John had always stripped off Sherlock's clothes like he was unwrapping a gift when he changed him for their age play sessions; under the circumstances, he wanted to do the same. But Sherlock undressed himself in a flurry like John had, ripping off his shirt and trousers so fast that John was surprised that the buttons didn't come off.

But just like a gift, John found himself studying the man that lay on the bed beneath him. John had seen Sherlock without his clothes countless times; he'd dressed him, bathed him, taken care of him in the hospital, and changed his nappies. He'd even seen him aroused before so it wasn't like anything was a surprise. But it was just…different. It was different to look to down at Sherlock without his clothes, not for the purpose of caring for him but solely for the purpose of having him. Knowing he was aroused because of John and knowing that everything in front of him was all his to touch and taste and have…it all gave John pause. Sherlock was beautiful; the words came to him but froze in his throat which was just as well. Sherlock would undoubtedly call him too sentimental. But it was true whether Sherlock would have doubted it. His body wasn't without flaws but no one's was. But even the scars that zigzagged across Sherlock's body from his personal and professional battles faded into Sherlock's porcelain skin like signatures from his life. There wasn't a scrap of discernable fat but somehow Sherlock's very thin body was still toned. John's eyes drifted shyly toward the very erect cock pointing towards him; he'd never really gotten to study it when it was like this before. It was thinner and longer than John's own and though he'd been all intent on touching it moments ago, even though he still wanted, John hesitated.

As much as John had seen Sherlock without his clothes, Sherlock had seen John just as much. But still…John felt irrationally self-conscious. He felt Sherlock's eyes roaming over himself and worried what he might find now that he was really looking. He'd been really toned at one point; the army had seen to that. But that had been years ago and he had not tried retained all of that. Looking past his muscles to his stomach was even more alarming. He was certainly softer in the middle that he used to be; Sherlock could probably and had at some points, told him exactly how many pounds he had put on. Though he wasn't fully hard yet, John still felt it looked not as great in comparison to Sherlock's as he would have thought on his own. At least when you were with a woman, there weren't any…..comparisons.

"John, do go and get self-conscious on me" Sherlock urged, his voice breaking the silence. When John looked at him, he was grinning knowingly. "I can see it in your eyes."

"I'm not" John tried and failed to argue.

"You're such a liar" Sherlock said with a smile. In the next moment, Sherlock had pushed him down on the bed.

Instead of kissing him hard on the lips like John expected, Sherlock's lips traveled his skin. Over his shoulders, down his arms, across his chest…..sometimes just a whisper of a touch, sometimes a strong nip or pull. Sherlock took his time despite his obvious need, tasting each bit. He continued, down along John's stomach, down across his legs and back up again toward to his steadily growing erection. John held his breath in anticipation as Sherlock's full lips came to rest on the tip; instead of taking him in like John thought he would, he simply rested the whisper of a kiss on it like it was a treasure.

Though John was burning with need, his toes curling from every touch of Sherlock's skin against his own, John was not in a hurry to rush Sherlock past his agonizingly slow touch. With every slight graze of his skin against John's and with every look into his eyes John felt Sherlock's affection. He could genuinely feel what Sherlock was trying to convey; John didn't have to be worried about his body at all because Sherlock adored it. It was obvious in the careful way he kissed and caressed each part of him. John had never felt so special, so cherished; it made his insecurities melt away. It could be felt in all of Sherlock's actions that he wanted John exactly how he was and that was something that was nearly impossible to truly feel.

As Sherlock's attention began to be drawn more away from John's body and more toward his burning need, John could feel himself beginning to grow fuzzy and hot with want. John could see that Sherlock's arousal had not dimmed in the slightest as he continued to pepper John's with feather light kisses. John felt his toes curl from the effort it took not to push up with his hips, to try to get Sherlock to take him into his mouth. He let out a gasp at the mental image of that brilliant, articulate mouth wrapped around him…

"Sherlock" John managed to gasp, looking at Sherlock with a heavy lidden gaze.

"Yes?" Sherlock asked with a husky voice. John could feel Sherlock's hot breath against him and he shuddered.

"I'm…I'm in a bit…..of want" John said. "How are we…..I mean, what do you….want…"

John's words were getting muddled from the hormones coursing through his blood and his nervousness. He knew how he wanted this to go but they hadn't ever discussed it and he had no way of knowing where Sherlock wanted to be in this scenario.

Luckily, Sherlock as always seemed to know what John was trying to ask even though he didn't make any sense. Sherlock tilted his head so that he was lying between John's legs, his head on his stomach as he gazed back at John with a smile.

"I thought it was obvious, John. You're always on top to me" he said, pink color to his cheeks and unguarded excitement in his eyes.

John felt a rush of relief and anticipation run through him. He pulled Sherlock's face toward him, giving him a long, slow kiss before pulling back. "You're perfect, you know" John said, rubbing his thumb along Sherlock's cheek as he looked into his eyes.

"Yes, I know" Sherlock said but unlike usual, there was no smugness in it. He smiled shyly at John, the color in his pale face increasing.

John felt a hot rush of want go through him as Sherlock turned over and lay on his stomach, looking back at John in expectation. It was then that it seemed to John that this was really going to happen. His cock gave a twitch of expectation at the sight of Sherlock completely vulnerable and waiting for him.

John leaned over Sherlock's back, running his hand over Sherlock's small arse as he put his mouth against Sherlock's ear. "As much as I enjoy this view" John whispered to him, "I'd really prefer to look at you while we do this."

Sherlock looked back at John with a smile on his face. "Okay" he said. His voice had never sounded smaller and shyer. It was almost as young sounding as he sounded when he was little. Rather than putting him off, it made John feel an overwhelming sense of protection coming over him.

Sherlock rolled over to face John, trust and openness in his whole demeanor. John felt desperately that he didn't mess this up; the man who had already trusted him with his life countless times, who had trusted him with his biggest secret, was now trusting him with all he had in his body. And John felt a moment of panic run through him at the amount of trust Sherlock put in him and he was suddenly realizing that he was so ill prepared that he didn't even know such a simple thing as if they had any lube.

When John felt a moment's panic come over him at the thought, Sherlock said, "It's in the drawer" gesturing toward the side table with a slight smirk on his face.

"Know it all" John said with slight humor as he fumbled in the drawer for the tube. He realized as he opened it that his fingers were shaking.

"Oh you know that you love that I'm a know it all….."Sherlock's voice rose several notches on the last word as John's finger found his entrance and began to tease it.

"You're right; I do" John said, his voice low and needy as he leaned toward Sherlock, capturing his lips in an open mouth, hot breath kiss. John continued to rub Sherlock's entrance until he could work a finger in. John could feel the sharp intake of breath from Sherlock's mouth to his own when he began to slide it in and out. With pressing need, Sherlock's hands gripped John's back until John was sure that there were nail marks on his skin; it only spurned John on. The delicious mixture of slight pain and arousal as Sherlock pressed into his hand made John feel heady with desperation. Slowly, John added fingers, teasing Sherlock from inside in what he hoped was a pleasant way; he felt out of his element when he thought about it so he didn't think about it. He just continued to feel Sherlock's fingers on his back, his mouth meeting his and moving back periodically until Sherlock moaned in such a way that John was sure that he was doing everything quite right.

"Alright?" John asked in breathy voice, sure that Sherlock was but wanting to hear in nonetheless when Sherlock cursed low under his breath.

John's forehead was resting against Sherlock's so that he could feel his breath on his lips. "I need you inside of me, John" he breathed.

A shudder ran through John at the words. He had heard those words from women before and it was always a great welcome response but it never had the impact on him that it did when Sherlock said it. Sherlock had needed John in countless ways from the day they met from the ridiculous ways on a case to the heartwarming ways he needed him when he was being little but this was completely different. It was new territory and John was both thrilled and terrified at it.

John moved his fingers faster, trying to recreate the conditions that had made Sherlock sound so much in need; he was not disappointed. "Tell me how you want me" John whispered back at Sherlock. John was aching with need, holding back from trying to press his way inside Sherlock but he couldn't help the need to hear it again.

"I want to feel you inside of me, John" Sherlock whispered so low that John could barely hear him. "I want to know how you feel"

John's breath was coming faster now; he reflexively arched against Sherlock for a desperate bit of friction. "What else do you want?" he dared to ask. He wasn't going to be able to hold back much longer but the words out of Sherlock's mouth and the look on his face were going to be burned into his brain and he wanted to hold onto it.

"Do you want to hear me beg?" Sherlock asked, sounding sexily desperate. He kept one hand painfully on John's back while another came around, wrapping around John's length and beginning to pump it.

John's hips pushed against Sherlock's hand, soaking in each thrust. "Maybe" John gasped.

"Please come inside of me" Sherlock said, his voice rising several octaves.

John, now feeling on the verge of losing control, reached for the tube, putting a generous amount of lube on his throbbing length. With as much control as he could bear, John slowly began to work the tip in. He'd barely gotten in when Sherlock pulled back.

"John"

Sherlock's eyes were open and his voice was back to its normal tone. John pulled back and looked at him; he hoped desperately that Sherlock hadn't changed his mind. He couldn't imagine that he had. "What?" John asked, out of breath.

Sherlock smiled back warmly at John. "I'm really glad this is with you" he said.

The sincerity threw John off so much that all he could manage to say was, "What" again in confusion.

Sherlock gave John the most sincere smile that he'd ever seen. "I never understood it" he said, looking thought. "In all my life I never understood why sex was such a big deal to people. I wasn't waiting for it or holding back; I never really wanted to explore it. But now, because of you John, I get it. Doing this with someone that I feel so safe and secure with, someone who cares so much about me….this makes it special. I'm glad my first time is with you"

John's heart exploded with love and affection for the man in his arms. Pouring everything he had into it, John leaned down and kissed Sherlock. He was dizzy when he finally pulled back and said, "I love you so much"

Any nervousness or fear that John had had was banished completely. Looking into Sherlock's eyes, holding onto him like the treasure he was, John moved the rest of the way inside Sherlock. John paused as a collective gasp went through them before he began to thrust in a gentle rhythm.

There was so much sensation John wasn't expecting it; Sherlock was so tight and yet even so he held back slightly so that he didn't push Sherlock too hard. He'd put it off for a while now and he was aching at every sensation of Sherlock around him.

"Harder…..I'm not going to break" Sherlock breathed, holding onto John's back, pulling him closer. It was all the encouragement that John needed.

Losing what was left of John's heterosexuality was more enjoyable than even he had imagined it would be. He had always known going in it wasn't about the fact that Sherlock was a man; it was just about Sherlock being Sherlock. He'd known the emotional impact would be there but he didn't know how explicitly he would enjoy the difference in sensation. Being inside Sherlock was tighter, more intense than being inside a woman; the sensations were entirely different. With Sherlock's permission he lost the last shred of self-control he had and quickly found a deliciously fast pace.

Being with Sherlock was not like being with anyone else. At times, John and Sherlock would just look into each other's eyes and John would see something there that had never been there before. At other moments, their mouths would meet in a breath taking kiss or there would be teeth on a neck, marking skin for the property of each other that it was. Being with Sherlock was like falling into something wonderful and John didn't ever want to stop.

It wasn't long until John could feel the building up of sensation signaling his climax. He knew he was powerless to stop it but that didn't stop him from feeling that he wanted to hold on for a bit longer.

"Don't hold back…come for me, Dr. Watson" Sherlock said.

Leave it to Sherlock to know exactly what John was thinking and what he needed. The dark tone, the formal address that both made him feel powerful and talked down to at the same time and the direct command made it impossible for John to hold back. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, holding him close as he felt the waves of his orgasm wash over him.

John was reluctant to leave Sherlock. For a long time, John simply lay against Sherlock's chest, sweaty and gasping. He could hear the sound of Sherlock's racing heart under his ear as Sherlock's fingers delicately played with his hair. John was unused to the sensation; Sherlock's hair was so naturally playful that John toyed with it all the time; for John, it was rare. John soaked in the touch as his heart rate slowed and a sensation of satiation came over him.

Reluctantly, John pulled back so that he came to sit between Sherlock's legs, planning on rolling over and falling into a blissful sleep. It was then that he saw Sherlock's still hard cock, just as in need as ever and felt a sudden burst of energy. As happily satisfied as John felt, he wanted to Sherlock to feel the same.

John slid gently off the bed and onto his knees on the floor, turning Sherlock toward him. Sherlock looked at John in slight surprise, as if he hadn't expected this outcome; it was a look that John very rarely saw that look on Sherlock's face and even less so when he had been the one to put it there.

"What a beautiful sight; John Watson on his knees for me" Sherlock said, obvious need and want in his eyes. It made John smile despite his nerves.

"Only for the great Sherlock Holmes" John said cheekily before he turned his attention back to Sherlock's erection.

At this point it seemed ridiculous to be nervous but John still felt shy. Giving Sherlock head just seemed so much more…gay? That was part of it but not what was really bothering him. Being inside Sherlock, though a completely different experience than what he'd had before, at the heart of it was familiar; it was the same motions as sex like he was used to. But this was totally different. Though John had had been at the mouth of some very accomplished women, he knew what he liked but he hadn't been exactly paying attention to their technique. He wanted to make Sherlock feel good but he wasn't sure what that meant.

Sherlock's hands were gently playing with his hair as he kneeled before him. John knew he could sense his nervousness and rather than commenting on it, he was trying to put him at ease. With a burst of courage, John leaned down and slowly wrapped his lips around Sherlock's length.

John felt awkward at first; his teeth kept getting in the way until he found the right way to put his lips around them. As he moved up and down he realized how little of Sherlock considerable length he could actually take and felt more sympathetic toward the women who'd complained of such things. John licked tentatively around the tip and up and down Sherlock's cock but he wanted more. Recalling what he had seen women do to him before, John wrapped his hand around most of Sherlock's length, putting what he could in his mouth and moving his hand as he used his mouth. It made all of the difference.

John slowly gained confidence as he saw the effect it was having on Sherlock. At first, Sherlock remained upright, his hands still in John's hair until he was pulling painfully; eventually he fell halfway back on the bed, gripping the bedclothes instead. Sherlock's eyes were closed, his mouth open and gasping, and sounds of pleasure issuing from John's ministrations. The more that Sherlock came undone, the more John moved, the faster he went along Sherlock; he could see that he was obviously doing something right. John had imagined Sherlock like this before, in his most private fantasies, but he had never really dared to believe that he could have that effect on him.

It wasn't long before John could tell that Sherlock was growing close to his own orgasm. His toes were curling next to John, his breaths coming faster and shallower. With a desperate sounding voice, Sherlock managed to say, "I'm getting close, John"

It was a warning, one that John decided in a second to not heed. He turned his full attention on Sherlock's face, watching the pure look of ecstasy on face as he felt Sherlock's release in his mouth. He had a few seconds to register the odd texture and taste before he quickly swallowed it down. Sherlock was still gasping and panting, sprawled out of the bed with a look of purest delight on his face as John retrieved a towel to clean then up with.

It was silent as John and Sherlock climbed under the covers of the bed; John wasn't sure what to say. He knew he was he happy, warmly and completely satisfied but words seemed to fail him. When he turned on his side, he saw Sherlock on lying sideways facing him, smiling but apparently as lost for words as John. It didn't feel to John that everything about them had just changed; the fear he'd always felt about sex ruining whatever else they had seemed silly in this moment.

Sherlock leaned toward John, giving him a long, slow kiss. John could still taste Sherlock but it didn't seem to bother him at all; when Sherlock broke apart from John, John felt his heart beating fast again. Sherlock raised a hand toward John's cheek, stroking it gently. John felt a shiver of contentment pass over him at the simple gesture. He curled up closer to Sherlock, wrapping an arm around his back.

"That was really nice" Sherlock whispered after a long silence. His face was open, honest and younger looking. He still had a hint of shyness but contentment was obvious.

Sherlock, the man of many words, could have said it in so many ways with so many words. But the simple sentence from the genius seemed to be enough to John. There would be much more to be said and John was sure that Sherlock would say it. But now, this was just enough for them both.

"Yeah, that was really nice" John agreed quietly.


	3. Chapter 3

John was awake long after Sherlock drifted off to sleep. Sherlock had gone to sleep in John's arms, against his chest as he quietly played with his hair. Now, Sherlock lay on his back, peacefully asleep, while John studied him and knew that it would be a long time before he himself could go to sleep.

It was so different and yet it still felt the same. Sherlock's hair was wildly tousled across the pillow, his face peaceful and relaxed. His thumb had made its way toward his lips, barely stuck in his mouth, and John had never felt even in years of age play, more protective and close to the man in front of him. He was a contrast of strong and meek, independent and needy, adult and little and it was absolutely perfect.

Without any thought to not doing it, John reached across Sherlock and grabbed a dummy from the bedside table. John gently removed Sherlock's thumb and replaced it with the dummy. Sherlock took it without waking, curling up in his sleep and looking beautifully vulnerable and delicate.

John loved him…For that he had known for a long time. He always thought that he couldn't possibly love him more but he always found capacity in his heart to love Sherlock more. How was it possible to love someone so much? How was it possible to feel so connected to someone that your very heart ached for them? To need them so much that you thought that you wouldn't be able to exists without them? John didn't know but he did know that that's what he felt.

His heart swelling, partly from post- coital feels but mostly from the love that was already there, John laid his head against Sherlock's shoulder, placing his hand on Sherlock's heart. He drifted off to sleep, focusing on the heartbeat under his hand, the thing that kept his most precious thing alive.

….

When John woke up the next morning, bright late morning sunlight was coming through the window. He squinted as he slowly woke up, finding the bed next to him empty. John felt the blankets and found them no longer warm, though the dummy he'd given Sherlock last night was lying on his pillow. John wasn't surprised he had slept longer than Sherlock but that didn't stop him from feeling excessively lonely at the sight of the empty bed.

John threw on a t-shirt and overly long pair of Sherlock's pyjama bottoms and made his way toward the sitting room and kitchen. He found Sherlock sitting at the table, a plate of pancakes in the middle of the table and coffee brewing in the pot.

"Did you cook breakfast?" John asked, slightly stunned.

Sherlock looked up at John with a smile, trying not to look proud. "Thought you'd enjoy it if I did" he said. John had no doubt their night together had had something to do with it.

"You should get lucky more often if it makes you want to cook" John teased him.

Sherlock blushed and John felt unbelievably proud of it. "Yes, I should. Someone ought to see to it that I do" he teased back.

"Well, as your doctor I suppose it's my duty to see to your good health" John said cheekily. It was a victory that Sherlock's blush deepened.

John came to stand behind Sherlock, putting his arms around him in a backwards hug. Sherlock's hands held onto John's arms, leaning his head against John's shoulder. John heard him give a deep sigh as he leaned into the touch.

"How do you feel now that I've made a man of you?" John asked jokily. He wouldn't be able to tease him about being a forty year old virgin anymore but that didn't mean he was going to give up entirely.

John could almost hear Sherlock roll his eyes with his heavy sigh. "John, how crude an expression; I've never liked it" he said in his knowing voice. "I've physically been an adult for over twenty years. " Sherlock leaned further into John heavier. "Emotionally, I'll always be your little boy, right?"

Sherlock turned from his position against John and looked at John with that innocent, little boy look that had been melting his heart for years now. John had never been able to resist it and he certainly didn't want to. Sherlock as a little, and even as his adult self if he would admit it, saw John as his protector in a way that John would always take seriously.

John leaned down and gave Sherlock a kiss to his forehead before he spoke. "Of course you'll always be my little boy"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end! Sorry that last chapter was so short but hopefully it was cute enough to make up for it ;) Keep an eye out for the next installment and thanks as always for reading!


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